On The Run With Daphne Greengrass
by unclee
Summary: A series of mishaps has Harry running for his life, with the most unlikely of companions tagging along. HP/DG


Disclaimer: don't own HP. Never will.

New A/N: I would like to thank **Fireblade5** for pointing out my huge mistake in the story title. Please see the new A/N at the bottom.

This is, as anyone who reads this will see, un beta'd so it's probably very rough. Please excuse any errors you may come across. Pretend that ninja's did it.

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**Prologue**

_Things were not going as I had hoped._

_I really and truly think that fate, whoever that might be, loves to play with me. Every time I think things are getting better and going my way they kick my legs out from under me. They're like the bully on the playground who steals the little kid's lunch money. And I'm the little kid. I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I am definitely going to keep now. I promised myself that, whenever I die (which could be soon if this situation continues), I was going to walk right up to fate and put my foot directly up its ass. Damn that's going to be satisfying._

_I thought that I had paid my dues years ago, but no, here I am again with my life in danger. I'm in the middle of nowhere, in a rundown shack stuck with…_

_Wait, wait, wait. Let me back up for a minute and introduce myself. Let me give a little bit of backstory as to why I'm in my current predicament, staying in this shithole and hatching a half-cocked suicide mission that will probably fail and get us all killed (in particular, me). First, my name is Harry James Potter. I'm twenty-seven years old and I'm an almost-graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I didn't go for my seventh year but whatever. Some know me as the boy-who-lived, the Chosen One, and Hell, I've even been called the boy-who-killed. Despite all that, please, just call me Harry._

_Let me get this out the way: yes, I killed Voldemort and no, I don't really care. I won't go into all the details of how it happened because, frankly, the details are rather boring and I don't have the time to rehash my life in its entirety. If you've got a problem with that then I don't care. Anyway, the important thing to know if that this little tale of mine starts shortly after I defeated Tom Riddle and his band of Death Eaters had all scattered. Mere days after taking down Tom I was approached by a man, we'll call him Barry for now. Yeah, Barry sounds nice. Barry had an offer for me: a chance for someone with my particular set of skills to hone them at an elite "academy."_

_Now you have to understand this: at the time, I had no damn clue what this "academy" was. Barry didn't go into much detail which, looking back now, I'm pretty sure was part of the sales pitch. Make the place seem all mysterious and shit so that the prospects are, at the very least, intrigued. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, the "Academy." Old Barry told me he'd be back in 3 days for my answer and then just disappeared. I'm not talking about some "walk away over the horizon" kind of disappearing, no. I'm talking about full-on, disappearing-into-thin-air, disappearance. It wasn't an apparition, it wasn't a portkey, shit, it wasn't even that creepy popping thing that house elves do. You get what I'm saying? The guy just fucking disappeared. As a 17 year-old kid you get a mighty big surprise when someone right in front of you just vanishes._

_So I waited three days. Three long, annoying-as-hell days but that's neither here nor there. Like clockwork, Barry shows up lookin' for my answer. I thought, "What the hell?" and decided to go with him. I packed up what little I had and was gone, just like that. As a side note, I'd like to mention that disappearing is not like any form of usual magical travel. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone but a trained professional. Makes you sick as hell._

_This "academy" I'd just been recruited into was…different? It was weird. Much different from Hogwarts, that's for sure. The people, location and material taught (or rather, as they are called, disciplines we mastered) were vastly different from anything the majority of the British wizarding public ever sees. They taught you pretty much everything you can possibly think of, including how to kill people a thousand different ways. I hate killing. It's dirty and makes you feel like you need six showers. Also, blood can really stink sometimes, if anyone's interested (which you shouldn't, because what kind of person cares what blood smells like?)._

_The British ministry had a fit when they couldn't find me; it was a pity I couldn't watch. _

_I spent 8 ½ years in the Academy, honing what meager skills I had. It didn't take me long after arriving to realize that I had my work cut out for me. It was 8 ½ years of grueling work you see. Learning mostly through example is a hard way to learn but when I finally did leave I was better for it (At least I like to think so. There are some I know who think it made me nutters). When I stepped back into the world it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and that, for the first time in my life, I was finally free to set my own path. Initially, I had thought that leaving the guild would close out most of the danger in my life. I thought that it would finally allow me some peace and quiet, and for a while it did. I got a year and a half of relative nothingness that felt like bliss. Course, it all went to Hell._

_That's where this little situation I'm in begins. Let's see….I think it started three weeks ago? Maybe a bit longer than that…._

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"**I just need you to observe him, nothing more, nothing less. Consider this a personal favor for me."**

Harry sighed. He didn't know who was more insufferable: the Grand Master of the Academy or the late Albus Dumbledore. They were both alike in so many ways, but also different on many levels. Though he couldn't be sure, Harry had a sneaky suspicion that the Grand Master acted like Dumbledore just to mess with his mind. 'Damn old men,' thought Harry. Anyone but the Grand Master and Harry would have turned down this "assignment." However, Harry owed a lot to the old man, so he couldn't say no.

Harry looked at the man beside him. Ivan Fitzgerald was a rather tall man with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He wore plain black robes and combat boots: standard issue Academy apparel. Harry didn't like him much. For one, the man was an idiot. Oh, he was rather book smart, but the man was also kind of dim when it came to his surroundings. The other reason why Harry didn't like the man was because he always seemed up to no good. He just had one of those faces that always made Harry think, 'Did he just steal candy from a baby?' Like Draco Malfoy, only not as bad. Currently, Ivan was cleaning something off of his robes, not paying much attention to the task at hand. Harry gave a sign.

Without looking up from his robes Ivan asked, "Got something to say Harry?"

Harry swallowed a quick retort. "No, just wondering when you were going to get on with what you have to do." Ivan finally turned to Harry, apparently finished with his robes.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I didn't think my job had anything to do with you. Am I inconveniencing you? Do you have something you need to attend to? By all means, go. I'll be sure to tell the Grand Master how you couldn't even do him one small favor."

Harry glared at the taller man. "Just for the record, I hate what you do. Let it be known that I told you that."

"Whatever, _observer_. Please just sit back and do what you were instructed to do: observe."

Harry continued to glare at the man, itching to throw a curse or two at him. That would have drawn a lot of attention to the pair, however. Luckily, Harry had enough sense to hold down whatever violent urges that threatened to surface. Even though Harry didn't like the fact that he was here to watch over what amounted to an execution, he knew there was nothing he could do. Whoever was Ivan's target was probably a bastard who deserved it anyway. Ivan quickly stood and looked into the distance, which caused Harry to look in the same direction.

Coming out of the entrance to the Leaky Caudron was a short, balding man with a fat nose and a horrible moustache. He wore finely crafted robes that were emblazed with an unfamiliar crest and carried a cane that was, by Harry's estimate, much too large for him. 'A noble it seems,' Harry noted to himself. He was making an almost mad dash for the entrance to Knockturn Alley, which caused Harry to roll his eyes. The fool was drawing the attention of everyone in the Alley.

"Bit stupid, isn't he?" whispered Harry to Ivan. Ivan gave a small smirk. "Yes, he does seem that way. That should make this easy though." Harry grimaced. Ivan moved quickly to follow the man, which caused Harry to shake his head. 'He's going to catch the notice of someone.' Staggering along several paces behind Ivan, Harry moved at the same pace as the crowd in an attempt to blend in. Finally catching up, Harry and Ivan headed into the less crowded Knockturn Alley. Knockturn Alley was, in Harry's opinion, kind of fascinating. Yes, everything was caked in layers of dirt and most of the stuff looked like it would crumble in your hands, but it was the shops that intrigued him. While the rumors of it being a haven for dark magic were true, there were also some genuinely legitimate stores that sold some really good stuff. 'If you can afford it,' thought Harry.

It wasn't hard to spot the man in the dingy little alley; he was the only one moving at more than a strolling pace. Lazily following the man, Harry and Ivan saw him go into a small shop in the very far corner of the alley. Approaching the shop Harry read the sign. "Bartley's Store for Miscellaneous Items?" questioned Harry. He'd never seen this store before. Then again, Harry never hung around when he came to this vile place. Best to get what you came for and get out had always been his policy. Harry and Ivan entered the store silently.

Surprisingly, the store was bigger than it looked and rather well organized to boot. Sporting a very rectangular shape, the two side walls were lined with bookshelves that contained a variety of artifacts, trinkets and books. The middle of the store had similar shelves, though much shorter and of lesser length. What little wall could be seen, as well as the ceiling, were painted a dark green. Harry had to hand it to the keeper of this shop: despite the fact that his location was rather, well, undesirable, he had made the best of it. Looking over to Ivan, Harry noticed the man had already started to move to the back of the shop. 'At least he moves quickly,' he thought.

As he moved down the aisle, Harry studied the different items along the shelves. Old cauldrons, foe glasses, crystal balls, books and more were scattered about the shelves with no sense of order. Most of it looked like it didn't work either. Nearing the back of the store Harry saw the checkout counter. Ducking behind the last shelf, Harry saw the noble standing in front of the counter. He seemed rather agitated. "Get out here now you stupid old man!" he whispered vehemently. Harry caught sight of Ivan in the corner of his eye but the man was already moving. Well, the man was done for now. Harry began moving toward the front of the store, preferring not to watch.

Ivan approached the noble slowly. Finally within rang he said, "Excuse me, Sir?" The finely-dressed man spun around, only to be punch hard in the nose. Hearing an audible crunch, the short man yelped and staggered back, face bloodied. Failing to catch his balance, the noble wobbled forward into Ivan who grabbed his head, and with a quick motion, snapped his neck.

From the front of the store Harry head a loud thump….followed a minute later by another.

Rushing quickly to the back Harry caught sight of what made the other noise: an old man. "What the hell is this Ivan?" questioned Harry. Ivan glared. "Apparently he's the shopkeeper. Looks like he was here after all. I had separate orders to take him out if he was here." Harry turned away from the bodies. He had learned long ago how to stomach the sight of dead bodies but he still got a sickening feeling from time to time. Regaining his composure, Harry saw Ivan approaching him. "We need to go. I've been instructed to just leave the bodies." Harry nodded. Moving to the front of the store, both men froze when the door to the shop opened and a woman stepped in.

And looked straight at the bodies.

The woman slowly drew her wand and spoke. "I want to know what's going on here before I take you two in." Harry panicked. Making a split second decision that could cost him his life Harry stepped in front of Ivan and towards the woman. Smiling, he put his hands up in a mock sign of surrender. "Please miss, this isn't what it seems I assure you. I'll explain it over lunch, miss…" Harry trailed off, looking for her to take the bait. Harry felt Ivan tense and relax behind him. That may be a good sign. The man had been going for whatever weapon he could get his hands on first to silence this bystander. The woman wasn't part of this and Harry didn't think she needed to die.

"My name is Daphne Greengrass and I'm quite alright, thank you. Now I suggest you start talking before I decide I've had enough." Something went off in Harry's head. It was faint, but it was there. 'What is it? C'mon Harry,' he thought to himself. Then it clicked. Greengrass. A Greengrass had married Malfoy. That meant that this woman was possibly from Hogwarts. 'Only one way to find out.' Smiling again, Harry stared at the woman. "Miss Greengrass I assure you, this conversion will go much smoother over lunch." With that, Harry brushed the hair on his forehead aside, revealing his scar. It had the effect Harry was looking for. Her eyes widening, Daphne lowered her wand.

Opening her mouth to speak, Harry put a finger to his lips to quiet what he knew would have been a declaration of his name. He would rather not draw that kind of attention to himself. A shout of, "Harry Potter?!?" in the middle of a very public street would have been bad. Leading Daphne to the entrance of Knockturn Alley, Harry looked back, but Ivan was nowhere to be found. 'crap!' Harry shouted mentally. This could get bad real fast.

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_As I said before: I hate killing. For some reason, someone had to tag along with that oaf to make sure he took out some guy. I'd have turned it down but I was, in some sense, in debt to the Grand Master and couldn't have said no. Oh, make no mistake: I've been around my fair share of killing. I just don't like to do it myself. I guess that was the reason I stopped Ivan from killing Greengrass. I could handle the fact that the noble and the shopkeeper were killed, I'm sure they were bad people, but she wasn't part of this. Had she walked into that shop five minutes later we'd have been nowhere in sight._

_I had to make a quick decision. It was either let things play out or run interference (Ivan was seconds away from killing her, of that I have no doubt). I chose the latter and got her out of there (call me a softy). I just had to convince her that what we were doing was legal, or make her forget it. Unfortunately, the last time I had tried a memory charm victim spent six weeks believing he was a baby. I had no wish to destroy her mind so a memory charm was out of the question. No, I chose to do something that I'd gotten fairly decent at over the years:_

_I was going to lie my ass off._

_At the time my plan was simple: lie, lie and lie some more until she believed everything I was saying. The only other obstacle to my-assed plan was Ivan himself. I knew for a fact that the man would head immediately to the Grand Master to report everything that went down. I just had to hope that I could catch up to him before he reported in. If not, well, then I was going to be in a bit of a situation; one that I wasn't sure I could talk my way out of._

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A/N: I would also like to thank **e1wasf** for pointing out several problems with my story. I've decided to tentatively continue the story but I've made a few revisions that you pointed out to me. Everything in your review was fair and I've tried to make a few adjustments to reflect that. However, I guess I should clarify something: I haven't been exactly planning this for a year. The idea of a Harry/Daphne story with a few (very few) details is what's been floating around in my head for that long. I only recently got back into HP fanfiction in the last couple weeks and that caused what you see above (or rather, what you use to see above as I've partially rewritten it) to get stuck in my head.

Everything else you said, however, was spot on and I thank you for it.

I guess the constructive criticism I received has spurred me on to, at least for now, continue with this story. This was the prologue and I'm going to shoot for 6,000 words a chapter from now on. I'll need to plan an outline first, so the next update might not come as quickly as subsequent updates (should I decide to bunker down and finish this story).

That's it for now. Hopefully my partial re-write is better than the first crap I put out.


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